


Sentiment and Senselessness

by Louzeyre



Series: Miss Veronica Mars and Lord Logan [3]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-06 00:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louzeyre/pseuds/Louzeyre
Summary: During the busiest and most fashionable months in the seaside resort of Norton Miss Veronica Mars is already attempting to conduct several inquiries at once when Lord Logan returns, wounded and with a mystery of his own.





	1. Michaels ask a Favour

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone still reading, I know it’s been a hard time for the fandom. It certainly has been for me. As I mentioned in the Author Notes of for chapter 13 of E & E I had started planning this story out months ago, even before I started writing Twelve Nights.
> 
> After Season 4 came out, I waffled a bit over whether to still write it, or whether I should alter my plan in part or in whole. I eventually decided to write it more or less like I had originally planned. I will also be trying to include some background information in the end notes. 
> 
> Also, for those keeping track, this first chapter technically takes place between chapter 14 of E & E and Twelve Nights. From chapter 2 onward, however, it will take place after Twelve Nights. Like with E & E and Twelve Nights I plan to try to alternate between writing chapters for this fic and Twelve Nights. 
> 
> I hope people are able to enjoy the story. Thank you.

**Spain**

**In the Weeks after the Battle of Talavera**

“Logan!”

At the sound of his name Logan looked across the mess and smiled to see his friend walking towards him.

“Michaels! Who was fool enough to let you out of bed?”

Talavera had been a bloody affair. In comparison with the 23rd Light Dragoons or much of the infantry those members of his own regiment who had fought had been lucky. Michaels, he supposed, could still be considered lucky. Even if he had taken a French sabre to the head, he was both still alive and still with the army, rather than a prisoner of the French.

As Michaels moved towards him, Logan studied his friend. What had once been an open gash across his brow was now a thick line of red puckered skin somewhere between a wound and scar. It seemed Michaels truly was lucky. Sabre wounds were less likely to fester than those from musket balls or cannonballs, but had the sabre been just a touch bit lower it would have taken his eye.

“The wound has healed cleanly?” Logan asked.

“And I have heard from good authority the scar will only add to my looks.” Michaels retorted with a smirk, prompting Logan to make a face.

Michaels sat down heavily next to Logan. Now with the opportunity for closer inspection, it was clear that in spite of his jovial words he was, far more tired from just his walk to the mess than he wished to let on.

“I had actually hoped to ask you favour.” Michaels said with a sigh.

“Barely up and already in trouble?” Logan asked. The chastisement that might have been felt with the words, was somewhat hollow, however, due to the smile Logan could not but keep on his face.

“Quite the opposite of trouble, thank you. I have, in fact, been asked to work on a project of sorts for the QMG.” He said assigning a slightly mocking gravity to the letters. “However, I fear that while my wound is healing well, I am still not quite up to the task. So, I offered you as suitable, if of course far inferior substitute.” Logan again made a face. Michaels again smirked, although the effect was somewhat marred by his slight flinch of pain.

“And what is this project?”

The quartermaster-general and his staff were charged with the planning required in moving an army, from issuing order on movement of troops to organizing lodging. The Depot of Military Knowledge had also been established under its auspices only six years before, and could have been of great benefit to the army. Its stated purpose was to direct confidential correspondence and collect information that could prove useful in current and future campaigns. They had, however, proven less than satisfactory thus far.

“Nothing you would need be ashamed of. I may have only met your lovely intended once, but I already know enough to fear her if I ask of you something of that sort. Or something that got you killed.”

Now Logan smirked. Veronica had been trying to appear amiable during her only dinner with Michaels.

“So, something for the QMD that is safe and dull. Exactly what every soldier hopes for. Tell me the truth, you ran into that sabre on purpose, didn’t you, just to avoid this.”

Michaels snorted, then pulled a sealed letter from one of his pockets and held it out, just out of Logan’s reach.

“Careful. Or I might ask Wilson instead.” The thought prompted an instinctive flinch and mutual sound of disgust. “Just, take this,” Michaels said, thrusting the letter towards Logan,” Give it to Major Cox. He should be near headquarters. He’ll explain what’s needed.”

Logan eyed the letter a moment. But he knew his show of suspicion was hollow. He was not going to refuse Michaels. Not when his friend had come to him when he was still so clearly in pain. Not when this was, it seemed, something he viewed as important enough to justify getting up from his sick bed. And not now that Logan’s curiosity had been piqued.

“Very well.” Logan sighed, taking the paper “But if I end up reading correspondences and assigning billets for the rest of the war, I’ll make sure you only get the worst of the lot.”

****

He would not be assigning billets. That he was fairly sure of even before he had actually discovered someone who knew where Major Cox was to be found.

Cox himself was entering middle -age, with a figure just beginning to grow stout and a moustache that took a turn at his cheeks and bled into his sideburns. He exchanged the usual pleasantries, took Michaels letter, and, after examining the seal, gestured for Logan to sit down across from him.

After a few awkward minutes in which he read and Logan waited, Cox placed the letter down and examined Logan for a few moments before speaking.

“How well can you sketch, Lord Logan?” He asked. “Not people. Landscapes. Buildings. Charts. That sort of thing.”

“I would not say I was an artist.” Logan said, with more than a bit a confusion. “But I’m not worse than most either.” Cox seemed to contemplate this a moment than nodded and looked up again with a smile that seemed calculated to charm.

“I have actually been wishing to speak to you for some time Lord Logan. Your escape from France has gained you a degree of celebrity in certain circles.”

Logan tensed. Uncertain how to respond. He was familiar with notoriety, both from his own actions and even more so his father’s, but positive notice was decidedly new territory. He did not quite trust it.

“Thank you.” He replied, his words coming out with an unintentional hint of a question.

Cox leaned forward against his desk and widened his encouraging smile.

“Now, tell me. I’ve heard such stories about your escape from prison. Did you truly choose to go further into France once you were free, so that Napoleon’s men would not guess your route?”

“Mr. Galway was the one who created the scheme. I simply had the honour of accompanying him.” Logan told him. Cox raised his brown.

“But you did go further in the France?” Cox shook his head as if in disbelief. “And were you really able to pass as a Frenchman?”

Logan’s hands clench reflexively, as if in memory of each time their softness and awkwardness had nearly led to their discovery. 

“Because I must tell you,” Cox continued “There is talk that you were able to play one so well, that the smugglers who got you across the channel, and were shocked when you jumped into the English ship along with the cargo rather than go back to France with them!”

“It was not quite so gallant or romantic as that.” Logan told him. He did, however, allow himself a bit of a smirk as he added, “And the smugglers learned who I was from their English contact long before we reached British shores, and charged me accordingly.”

This gained him a laugh.

“Wonderful.” Cox said in such a manner as to leave Logan not entirely clear _what _was wonderful. Just that he should probably be a mixture of proud and fearful because of it. Cox then continued.

“Michaels tells me you know Spanish as well.”

“Michaels is being generous.” Logan told him after a moment. Logan might be said to be over confident at times, but that was not the case. He was precisely as confident as he had the right to be. And this was not the place to give Cox a false impression of his ability. Not when the situation which would test such a claim might prove fatal. “I did have a wet-nurse and nursemaid that spoke the language but I was not the best of student it seems. When I tried to speak with some of the Spanish Officers during last year’s campaign, I believe the way it was described was that I spoke a slow, poorly accented mutt of Spanish, Italian and at least two other languages they could not name.”

This, however, simply prompted another laugh. 

“If that is true you would still know the language better than all but a handful of our officers.” Cox told him with a smile. Cox nodded his head again, as if he had come to some decision, and stood up. He pulled a rolled sheet from one of the improvised shelves surrounding him. Turning back towards Logan he gestured the roll towards Logan as another gentleman would have a cane.

“When Sir Arthur – sorry.” Cox said, then corrected himself. “When Lord Wellington arrived in Portugal, the state of the maps the army had on hand was so bad, he had to ask his brother-in-law to purchase one with his own funds and send it to him. I’m sure you’ve wondered how the quartermaster-general was not able to supple the information needed to stop Soult’s escape at Ponte Nova.”

Logan nodded slowly and Cox shook his head.

“The truth is, we can’t seem to keep men worth having in our depot. No good soldier wants to be behind a desk when there’s a war at hand. What information we do have is often suspect or out of date. The papers get things right more than we do.” Cox let out a long breath. Then looked Logan directly in the eye with a ferocity that belayed his early amusement. “What I’m asking of you is to be a part of a remedy for all that.” Cox then laid out the sheet on the table acting as his desk, spreading it out to reveal a rather crude map.

“We aim to send men out to gather detailed information. About the terrain. About where the enemy is. About what the people in the area know that we and the French do not. “

“Isn’t that already the task of the light division?” Logan asked.

“This will be more thorough and long reaching. You would be gone for longer periods. Often alone or with only one of the guides.” He continued. “Your reports would be expected to be more detailed. With sketches, descriptions and precise calculations. So much so that they could be used to create a precise map of the area. And they would be delivering them directly to headquarters.” Cox paused a moment as if to allow this soak in.

Then he looked up again and flashed Logan a smirk.

“So, what do you say?”


	2. Crim or Con

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was highly influenced by The Thousand Dollar Tan Line. I was in the middle of a Jane Austen re-reading when the movie and books came out. One of the consequences of this was that I saw a parallel between the way Neptune was portrayed in the book and the way Austen portrayed seaside resorts and spa towns in her novels --- especially for young girls. 
> 
> These towns were places where young people from around the country would come at a specific time of the year, often with less supervision and certainly with less potential for gossip than in their home villages and towns. But while living in a place where almost the entire population is visitors granted young women like Eliza Williams, Georgianna Darcy and Lydia Bennet a bit more freedom, it also left them more vulnerable to predators. 
> 
> Even Northanger Abbey, which portrays Bath in a far more positive way, reminded me of one particular part of The Thousand Dollar Tan Line. The second chapter, where Veronica describes the traffic driving to her Dad’s office during spring break immediately made me think of the scene where Isabella and Catherine are thwarted in their effort to stalk --- I mean follow ---two young men by how busy Cheap-street is due to the traffic coming into town from Oxford.

**Norton**

**Summer**

**Almost a Year Later**

It had arrived. The time of year that all merchants of Norton take joy of and all other residents dread. When the end of the social season and the heat of summer drive out all with the means from London to flood the seaside resorts now sprinkled up and down England’s coast.

August.

Veronica had only just avoided collision with two separate curricles, a gig whose owner thought it was a curricle, several clusters of giggling girls barely out of school room and a flotilla of naval officers whose rolling gate she doubted could be said to be caused by the keeping of their sea legs.

And that was only on the short walk from her father’s house to fetch the post.

After this harrowing journey, she and Miss Mackenzie found themselves forced to wait while the post-master was engaged with a woman who appeared to believe one could lower the cost of letter through strong words and negotiation.

“Miss Mackenzie, I believe that we should plan to take a trip to the Lake District next August.” Veronica whispered as the two watched the conflagration. “Or perhaps Scotland. It is too cold for sea bathing in Scotland is it not?”

“Grouse season starts in August.” Miss Mackenzie pointed out. Grouse being one of the principle reasons for many a gentleman to jilt both London and the seaside in favour of a visit to their northern neighbour.

“The Midlands then? I believe I once read that a town in Derbyshire was the farthest one could get from the sea on our fair island.”

“Or one of us could simply tip our hat at a rich nobleman and once married wait out the hottest months at his country estate?” Miss Mackenzie suggested “Oh. Wait.” She added, giving Veronica a pointed look.

“Oakhollow Abbey is far too close to Norton. No. Logan will simply have to join us in Derbyshire.”

“As mistress of Oakhollow Abbey you would have an army of servants and gamekeepers to keep out those undesirable.”

“The undesirable being most Logan’s former social circle?”

Miss Mackenzie shrugged.

“Given motive enough Lord Logan may even order some mantraps.” She added with a smile.

Veronica pretended to ponder this a moment before shaking her head at her friend.

“I’m not so certain. The Abbey’s housekeeper Mrs. Callis has joked she has received so many requests for tours of the Abbey she fears she will not have time for her other duties. If we were to decline next year, the gentry may take a lesson from their social inferiors and storm the Abbey. Mantraps or not.”

The hagglers finally let out a long indignant huff and threw what Veronica hoped was the appropriate amount of coin down on the post-office counter and walked out giving vent to her apparent ire that the postal service would not bend to her will with every footstep.

Veronica gave the post-master a commiserating smile as she moved up to the counter herself.

“Miss Mars.” His said, with a genuine smile. “Just a moment.” He turned to the back and returned with several letters. And a package slightly larger than a hatbox. Veronica struggle slightly to keep her smile on her face and reached for her reticule. “The letters are at the usual rate.” He told her. Then his smile grew slightly. “The package is already been paid for.”

Which meant it was from Logan. Some token, not doubt, for her birthday. But also meant it was, most likely, something bespoke some time ago, as Logan did not seem to trust the army’s post with anything larger or more important than a letter. It signified little in regards to his current continued health.

And none of the letters were from Logan.

She paid, and after some experiment, held the letters on top of the package, allowing her to carry all with only some awkwardness, while Miss Mackenzie received her own post.

Veronica knew it would be wisest to then go directly home. It had been difficult enough to navigate the crowded streets without the ponderous addition of a package.

But she had not received a letter from Logan in almost a fortnight. This was not unusual in the course of the time since he had returned to the Peninsula, nothing to cause undue concern. She still thought perhaps it might ease her mind to visit the circulating library and read the London dailies. Even if it was not a day she would ordinarily do so. Even if she had done so just two days ago.

Miss Mackenzie gave her a knowing look when she suggested the additional stop, but did not object and the two ventured out into the crowded streets once again.

The library’s owner gave her an uncertain look as Veronica entered, which increased her agitation to the point that, upon receiving the papers in questions, she nearly tore off the first page of advertisements in an effort to get to the news beneath.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she noticed a block of that particular sort of small, inclined letters which indicated some action had taken place in the war. With casualties enough for a list.

She tried to at least skim the copy of Wellington’s dispatch but she only managed to get as far as Craufurd and light division before her eyes jumped ahead to the afore mentioned list. She read it through. Twice. Then did the same with a second paper.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the chair in a manner which she was sure her former governess would certainly warn was incredibly vulgar.

Logan wasn’t on the list of injured.

Logan wasn’t on the list of killed.

She took a long deep breath.

The knot in her chest eased.

For now.

****

If one were to ask Veronica who she would imagine Mrs. Castleblanche paying her first round of calls to when arriving in Norton for the season, Veronica would not have placed herself upon the list. In spite, or perhaps because, of their connection through Mr. Castleblanche and Logan’s particular friendship, the two had only truly met twice.

It was, therefore, with some surprise that Veronica received the news that afternoon that Mrs. Castleblanche had arrived to visit. Especially as her sister, Miss Henrietta Button, with whom she had formed more of an acquaintance, was not with her.

Once Mrs. Castleblanche entered however, Veronica understood.

Her countenance did not bare the look of a woman who had come for a social visit.

Following the necessarily pleasantry, Mrs. Castleblanche confirmed as much.

“I would like you to find me evidence for a crim. con. suit.”

Criminal Conversation or crim. con. as it was often referred was, legally, a civil suit made by one spouse against the other’s lover for pecuniary compensation. It was also commonly used simply to refer to the act of adultery itself. Perhaps most significantly, it was the necessarily first step in any divorce.

In England, such a suit could only be made by a husband against his wife’s lover. The money awarded to the plaintiff being considered recompense for the “damage” the lover had done to the husband’s property --- his wife. It was also only a first of three, expensive steps required before a complete divorce could be achieved.

The Castleblanches, however, had not been married in England. In Scotland, a husband or wife might make a similar suit, and in proving it, obtain a divorce.

While Veronica would never say she was surprised that someone would wish to divorce Dick, she was, somewhat surprised that Mrs. Castleblanche would proceed with such a suit now.

Veronica had been correct in her belief that a new little Castleblanche would result from the dinner party hosted by the couple prior to Logan's return to Portugal. Unfortunately for all involved, the newest addition to the Castleblanche nursery was a little Miss Margaret Castleblanche rather than a Little Master Richard.

This left Mr. Castleblanche still without an heir. The Misses Hory, Fanny, Kitty and Molly Castleblanche without a brother to act as their protector when he died. Or Mrs. Castleblanche without a son through whom to continue to control the family estates in the future.

This was still more fraught given the fact that Mr. Castleblanche’s father, Sir Richard, had returned several months ago from his time abroad with a new fortune large enough for society to forgive both his former insolvency and the distasteful way in which this new fortune was created.

Thus, Veronica would still have sooner imagined Mrs. Castleblanche using her time in Norton to make another attempt at creating an heir, than dissolving her marriage.

But then, her husband was Dick.

“Mrs. Castleblanche, I am not as well versed in Scottish law as English, but it is my understanding that in order to make such a suit there, you would need to reside in Scotland for several weeks and the adultery in question would have needed to occur there.”

And, in spite of her earlier jesting, August and September were her and her father’s busiest season just as it was Norton’s. Veronica could not truly consider abandoning her father at such a time.

At least, not without being very well enough compensated for it.

Mrs. Castleblanche stared at Veronica a moment in some confusion. Veronica could see the moment she reached an understanding of what Veronica was suggesting.

She then let out an amused huff.

“Miss Mars, I have no plans to sue my husband’s current harlot. As long as Richard remembers to avoid serious debt or the pox, I do not care who he has _conversations_ with. I want you to find proof of Lady Castleblanche’s infidelity.”

Once Sir Richard had been accepted back into society, it was only natural he would soon begin to look for a new wife. One might think both his age and the fate of the first two Lady Castleblanche this might present some difficulty.

It had not taken even one full London season after his return for Sir Richard to find his third (or, if one were to believe the rumours of his time abroad _fourth_) Lady Castleblanche.

.

A new Lady Castleblanche that was several years Mrs. Castleblanche’s junior.

“Why do you believe she has taken a lover? They are only just married.” Veronica asked. As significant as their, difference in age, was, it was far from singular among society.

There was also something of an understanding among certain upper circles of society, that, provided she remain discrete, it was acceptable for a married woman to take a lover. But only after she had provided her husband with at least one heir.

Why would the new Lady Castleblanche risk her reputation and position when all she needed to do was wait until after her first child was born before she could take a lover with far fewer consequences?

Mrs. Castleblanche gave another amused huff, and directed toward Veronica a look which indicated she thought its folly, to suggest Lady Castleblanche would remain faithful to Sir Dick. Even for just the few weeks since their wedding.

“Are you certain Sir Richard would want to press such a suit. It would bring scandal and embarrassment down on him as well.” Veronica then asked.

“He married her in order to secure his legacy.” Mrs. Castleblanche, stated with open bitterness. “If we give him reason to fear any child would not be his, he will act.”

“Is there to be a child?” Veronica asked carefully.

“Not that I am aware of as yet.” Mrs. Castleblanche told her. “But it seems likely it is only matter of time. That is why I came to you now. Before such a complication.” Veronica nodded.

“I would need to have entry into her social circle. Attend events where I can observe her and speak to those, she is close with.”

“You are engaged to the Lord Logan.” Mrs. Castleblanche stated. “No one would think it strange if I invited you to our gatherings or acted as a chaperon at the Assembly rooms.”

Veronica was not so certain, but it was, at least, a place to begin.

“I would also need my lady’s maid to have a chance to speak with her servants.”

“Of course.” 

“And there would of course be my fee.” Veronica added.

“Richard is not aware of the reason I am calling on you. However, I do not see a problem with obtaining the necessarily funds.”

“I haven’t told you what the fee is.” She pointed out, with a slight bit of humour. Mrs. Castleblanche Made another face.

“Miss Mars, I believe you are aware of my situation should my husband die without a male heir.”

“I have been acquainted with it.” Veronica told her carefully.

“I cannot risk my girls’ future in the hands of that woman’s son.” She stated. “And while I would hope the friendship between our families, as well as Lord Logan position as my daughter’s godfather would temper any inclination to taking advantage of that, I understand that may not be true. Tell me the fee. I _will_ obtain the necessarily funds.”

Veronica smiled.

****

After some discussion, Mrs. Castleblanche had agreed to host a dinner party during the following week at which Veronica and the new Lady Castleblanche --- along with several gentleman Mrs. Castleblanche believed the likeliest candidates to be her lover --- would be introduced.

Prior to this formal introduction, however, Veronica thought it best to take advantage of her current relative obscurity to observe Lady Castleblanche's daily routine and the likely times and places where she might meet her paramour.

Lady Castleblanche's main occupation during the day seemed to be visiting the various shops. She had, however, also become enamoured with sea bathing, and today Veronica would attempt to discern whether it was the sea or something far warmer to which she gave her attention.

Sea bathing had become fashionable the previous century after the royal family had begun regular visits to Weymouth and had since been proclaimed as a cure for all manner of illness.

In order to partake a lady would rent a bathing machine --- a small hut on top of wheels --- for a period of time. The lady would then change within the machine into a long flannel shift and the machine would be rolled into the sea, far enough so that the lady would exit from the far side into water deep enough that no one would be able to see her in such improper attire. A stout female dipper (or, in the case of a gentleman a male bather) would then assist the bather in floating within the sea without drowning.

These regular submersions, were, of course, only one part of Lady Castleblanche's beautifying treatment. The most interesting aspect of which, Veronica found to be the hiring of a maid particularly for the purpose of spreading seaweed and other substances over her entire body prior to bed. Veronica wondered if this was truly a known remedy or simply an attempt to avoid Sir Richard’s embrace.

One of Mrs. Fennel’s lodgers, Mrs. Duckers was a dipper. Veronica had originally hoped Mrs. Castleblanche might be able to encourage Lady Castleblanche to hire Mrs. Duckers so that she could then report on Lady Castleblanche to Veronica.

Unfortunately, Lady Castleblanche was quite set on having a particular, fashionable dipper and would not accept anyone else. Veronica had instead been forced to have arranged for Mrs. Castleblanche to hire a machine for Veronica herself, from which she would be able to observe Lady Castleblanche’s movements.

Upon alighting into the machine, however, Veronica found she was not to be bathing alone today. Miss Henrietta Button was already within the machine, and suitably dressed.

“Miss Button, I was not expecting company.” Veronica said with caution, uncertain how much of Veronica's true purpose in being here Miss Button may know. 

“I am aware of Melinda’s aim in hiring you Miss Mars.” She told her simply.

“You are.” Miss Button might believe herself to know her sister’s intent, but it was best to be sure she truly did.

Miss Button nodded, then nodded towards the direction in which Lady Castleblanche’s own machine was to enter the water.

“She hopes you will catch Lady Castleblanche in a tryst.”

“You do not believe I will?” Miss Button shrugged.

“I don’t believe you will here. In Norton.” Was Miss Button’s reply. Before Veronica could inquire as to this belief, however, Miss Button again spoke.

“I had thought this might be the only opportunity to speak with you in private.”

“Why would you need to speak with me in private?” Veronica asked. Miss Button let out a long breath.

“A former schoolfellow of mine eloped several months ago.” She told Veronica. “I have not heard from her since. Melinda had never approved of the connection. I had thought, perhaps, she had decided to keep her letters from me. But I have been able to fetch the post myself for several weeks now, and still have received nothing. I have also learned that none of the rest of our circle have heard from her either. There have also been rumours that her guardian had done little to find her. And instead has gone to a shooting party in Devonshire.” She added, with clear indignation.

“Several days ago, the friend with whom she had been staying at the time of her elopement arrived in Norton. She shared with me that she believed she had seen the only gentleman.” There was no small bitterness to this last word “Eliza had shown particular interest in here. In Norton. Without Eliza. Flirting with another woman.” 

“Where did your friend elope from?” Veronica asked, Miss Button gave Veronica a chagrined smile.

“Bath.” She replied, then quickly added. “I understand you have duties here. I would not ask you to neglect them, but I had hoped you might be able to discover whether Perdita was correct that the man Eliza eloped with was now in Norton? And perhaps suggest someone you might trust to continue the inquiry in Bath?” She gave Veronica a pleading look, then with some embarrassment continued. “I will allow that I do not have much money and Melinda would never approve of such an endeavour. But Perdita and I have started a collection among Eliza’s friends. We thought if we all contributed our pin money we might have enough?”

Given what little Veronica knew or suspected about Henrietta’s circle, she doubted such a collection would amount to very much. Veronica had also already committed to several other inquires. Including, of course, one for Miss Button’s own sister.

But she also knew, all too well, what it was like to be a young girl, to feel a harm had come to a friend, but have few resources with which to redress it.

“Could you and your friend, the one who was in Bath at the time of the elopement, call upon me tomorrow, so that we might discuss the details of what happened?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” Miss Button exclaimed. Then, to Veronica surprise, she plunged forward and embraced her. “Thank you, Miss Mars. Thank You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has commented or Kudoed, I really really appreciate any feedback you can give. 
> 
> I also want to wish a special thanks once again to [AmyPC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPC/works) for acting as my beta. Thank you.
> 
> The Beautifying regime I mention in this chapter was, in fact, real. It was taken from Kate Williams book on Emma, Lady Hamilton England’s Mistress (yes including the seaweed). 
> 
> On July 24th 1810, Brigadier-General Robert Craufurd, who was in command of both the light division (both infantry and several regiments of cavalry) chose to engage the French rather than follow orders and retreat across the river Coa. What happened next was very nearly a disaster for the British. Thousands of men had to retreat across one bridge. Then a supply wagon turned over on the bridge. Because of travel time, it was not until August 13 that the London dailies received and printed information about the engagement, including a casualty list. 
> 
> A curricle is a light two wheeled carriage usually drawn by two horses. Its was the equivalent of a regency sports car. (Logan, of course, has one in blue). A gig is also a two wheeled carriage, but was usually pulled by one horse, making it cheaper.
> 
> The name Melinda was the first name of Mrs. Dick Castblancas Jr. in canon, but it was also a name created in the 18th Century. Maria Edgeworth's Novel Belinda came out in 1801 and was referenced in Northanger Abbey.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again, to those reading and especially to those who leave kudos and comments. I am kind of worried that writing in this fandom will increasingly become like shouting into an empty chasm, quite frankly. 
> 
> I also really need to give a special thank you to my beta [AmyPC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPC/works) for not only editing this chapter but for talking me through my anxiety about this fic and the fate of the fandom in general. Thank you . 
> 
> Pretty much as soon as I decided to make Logan a cavalry officer instead of naval officer, I also decided to make him an “exploring officer.” It was why I mentioned a need for maps in the first chapter of E & E. It seemed a natural way to reference his work doing surveillance as a pilot and I thought I could justify Logan having language skills with hints in the books that Logan was learning Arabic. 
> 
> What is an exploring officer you ask? At the start of the Peninsular War, Wellington (or as he would have been known then, Sir Arthur Wellesley) found himself without good intelligence or even a proper map. He really did have to send away to buy one with his own money. 
> 
> Starting in the fall and winter of 1809 both Wellington (he got his title after Talavera) and his Quartermaster-General Murray began recruiting young officers to gather intelligence. First about the terrain, then in a more traditional sense. These men, called Exploring or Observing officers would go “behind enemy lines” along or with a local guide while dressed in uniform. Yes, uniform. Partly because it erased some of the “ungentlemanly” stigma associated with spying but mostly because an officer in uniform when caught would be treated as an enemy combatant. Out of uniform they would be considered a spy and shot on site. 
> 
> I could wax on for a while about some of the more famous exploring officers, such Colquhoun Grant, Edward “Charles” Cocks, John Waters and Andrew Leith-Hay because I ended up doing far too much research for this story and, well, regency spies but I’ll leave you with this: In 1812 Grant was captured by the French. He escaped after discovering they were going to try him as a spy, then, pretending to be an American officer, travelled to Paris with a French General, and used this alias to move around Paris freely, gathering information and sending it back to England for some time before people started to notice someone was leaking information and he finally plotted his own escape back to England. 
> 
> Oh, and Major Cox is so named as a reference to Brian Cox, who played the exploring officer Michael Hogan in the Sharpe series.


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